


Queer for Captain America

by zetsubonna



Series: Z vs Marvel 616 [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Banter, M/M, Oral Sex, SO MUCH BANTER, This Whole Thing Is Mostly Talking, Why Did I Write This?, With Some Sex At The End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: “And why not?” Bucky took a pull. “I was at the damn epicenter, wasn’t I?”“Yeah, close enough to see through it,” Steve said, leaning over the table with his cue stick. “You of all people should have known better.”“Should’ve,” Bucky agreed. “Told you more times than anybody, though. Everyone’s a little queer for Captain America.”





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m glad you had time to come over. I forget what to do with myself when I’m single,” Steve said, which made Bucky’s ears perk up.

“You’re single?” Bucky asked. “Are you two on a break?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, working on a shot that bounced two balls into opposite corners of the pool table. “I think it works for us, for some reason. The on and off. Give it space, let it breathe. It’s comfortable.”

“No shit,” Bucky set his cue stick aside, settled into his favorite overstuffed chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, sipping his beer. Steve played best by himself anyway. He got too competitive otherwise. Sam found it fun, but Sam was a gracious loser. Bucky just found it annoying.

“Well, you and Natasha have an unconventional relationship,” Steve pointed out. “I can learn from you, sometimes.”

“Natasha and I are unconventional people,” Bucky reminded him. “You’re as normal as blueberry pie.”

“You know me better than that,” Steve said, grinning and setting up another shot. “Besides, every gal I go out with has her own life. I like it, it keeps me on my toes.”

“Maybe you ought to try going out with a guy,” Bucky said, watching Steve’s shoulders. “Sam seeing anybody?”

“He is, actually,” Steve said. He didn’t sink anything this shot, but Bucky could see where he’d set himself up a couple of good ricochets. “At least he was last time I asked. Don’t know how serious it is, he was real cagey about it.”

“You never flinch anymore,” Bucky said, amused, taking a pull of his beer. Steve only kept beer in the fridge for Sam and Bucky. His personal indulgence was usually copious amounts of sugar and caffiene. “You used to get a real mean look on your face.”

“You used to be a brat,” Steve said. “And you meant it mean. Now you’re just being a twenty-first century fella.”

“Well, it’s legal,” Bucky said, watching Steve sink another of his ridiculous shots that would have made a professional clench his teeth in annoyance. “And it’s not like anybody’d turn you down. Might as well sample the whole buffet table.”

“I’m picky, though,” Steve said. “I’m awful particular. Not a lot of guys could keep up with spies, lawyers, and fashion designer geniuses.”

“Gotta get a guy as good as your girls, huh?” Bucky said, not bothering to smile now that Steve’s not looking. 

“Something like that. Or someone who’s neither. That’s not where the particularness lies. Need somebody interesting,” Steve said. “And someone who’s not just in it for the historical artifacts and spin cycle.”

“I love it when you talk like that,” Bucky said, drawing his fingers through the condensation on the bottle. “Spin cycle. You’re real careful to keep your reputation as sparkling clean as it was when you got back.”

“People got expectations,” Steve said, clearing the board with another double shot. “Gotta live up to the legend somehow.”

“Christ,” Bucky sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

“You do fine,” Steve said, and there was something in it that went to Bucky’s belly and made him feel warm.

“Your opinion’s the only one that matters to me,” Bucky said, and Steve huffed a pleased little sound that made him roll his tongue between his lips.

“What kind of fella do you think I’d go for?” Steve asked, and Bucky perked up again at the question.

“You could have any guy you wanted,” Bucky told him, certain. “You remember what we used to tell you when you got all those love letters and they wanted to start collecting them for blue card investigations.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighed, breaking the freshly racked balls with a calculated snap and sending two of them into the side pockets from the beginning. “But what kind of guy would I want?”

“Me,” Bucky said, confident and sure, watching Steve’s posture again.

Steve still didn’t flinch. “Be serious,” he admonished. “I was actually asking.”

“Any guy you want,” Bucky said. “I know what type of gals you like, I don’t know if your guy type is different or the same.”

“I don’t know that I have a type either way,” Steve said, and the balls clattered across the table and Bucky heard one sink into a pocket, but he was really focusing on Steve. His tone. His easy breathing. The faintly amused expression on his face. “I feel like everybody I date’s pretty unique.”

Bucky avoided the obvious Carter-related cattiness. He was on a tightrope as it was.

“Well, then, I guess it depends on if you want to actually date or just hook up. You know what hooking up is, don’tcha, Cap?”

“I’m familiar,” Steve said, leaning over the table to size up a shot. His ass looked amazing in his jeans, and Bucky took in the view appreciatively. “I may have even done it once or twice. I’m not prepared to say.”

“Like I said,” Bucky reiterated, Steve’s coy attitude making him bristle a little. “Not a soul out there would turn you down. Never has been. Nobody in any branch of the service would, in particular.”

“You’re really standing by that, huh?” Steve said. “That’s all a propaganda film come to life. There’s more to me than just a shield. Plenty of people have seen that.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky said, drawling, gesturing expansively with a long necked bottle.

“Get out of town,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Not you, surely.”

“And why not?” Bucky took a pull. “I was at the damn epicenter, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, close enough to see through it,” Steve said, leaning over the table with his cue stick. “You of all people should have known better.”

“Should’ve,” Bucky agreed. “Told you more times than anybody, though. Everyone’s a little queer for Captain America.”

“Captain America’s not real,” Steve said, repositioning himself from another angle. “He’s an idea, not a person. You’re my Captain America.”

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky sprawled deeper into the chair, thighs spread wide. “Let me flirt with you hamfistedly in peace. Don’t ruin it.”

“You’re full of it,” Steve said, shooting another series of rattling balls across the table. “You’ve been flirting with me since 1941, I haven’t believed you once.”

“Well, maybe if my voice hadn’t cracked the first dozen times,” Bucky said, kicking around until he could pull the ottoman under his feet.

“It didn’t help your case,” Steve agreed. “At least I didn’t blush like I did when the girls did it.”

“That wasn’t fair, either,” Bucky complained. “I’ve never made you blush once.”

“And as much as you swear,” Steve said mildly, going to rack another set.

“Get me another beer,” Bucky said. “I’m comfortable.”

Steve sighed, propping the cue stick against the table.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Bucky said, flicking the cap off with his metal thumb.

“I just can’t take you seriously,” Steve said, moving to break again.

“I’m not sixteen anymore,” Bucky complained. “Even if I were serious, you’ve still got some kind of hang up. You’re not my CO anymore, either, Cap.”

“Nobody who calls me ‘Cap’ actually wants to have sex with me,” Steve said dryly. “Even if they did, it’s a dealbreaker.”

“Steve,” Bucky said flatly, “that is a load of horseshit.”

Steve hid a smirk in a triple.

“I would suck your dick right now up against that pool table,” Bucky said, lazily melting further into the chair. “You just don’t want me to.”

Steve turned a flat stare on him, and Bucky winked, grinning.

Steve sighed and went back to his game. “Brat.”

Bucky flicked the bottlecap sharply into Steve’s left buttcheek. “Your loss.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He said that?”

“Would I say those words if it were not a quote?”

Sam paused for a long moment, and then huffed. “Why did he think that would work?”

“Do you think he did?” Steve asked, brows furrowed in chagrin. “Because I don’t believe him. I think he was just saying it to see my face.”

“That’s possible,” Sam granted. “Still, though. Awfully crass, even for him.”

“Even for a laugh,” Steve said. “Even for a laugh, that’s a lot.”

“What if you had gone for it, though?” Sam asked. “He couldn’t have expected you to. He knows you better than that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Steve said, sighing. “I’m trying to think if he’s ever said a single thing less likely to get me to fool around with him.”

“I’m Bucky Barnes and I’m sixteen,” Sam said flatly.

“Fair point,” Steve said, smiling wanly. “But he’s not sixteen anymore. I don’t really think of him that way. As a kid, I mean. Had to remind myself he was a kid sometimes back when he was one. I wasn’t much older.”

“Why not just ask you?” Sam said. “I’ve asked you. It’s not hard.”

“It’s not,” Steve agreed. “I’m ninety-something, I’m not dead.”

“You’re not bad at it, either,” Sam said, which got a blush out of him.

“Thanks,” Steve said, sitting back and leaning on his hands. “I just don’t get it, is the thing. He’s a handsome fella. He’s always had a way with girls- women, I mean. He’s gotta know how to ask.”

“So he can’t be serious,” Sam said. “Because if he was serious, he’d be better at asking.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, I think that’s pretty solid logic.”

“I’m not offended,” Steve clarified. “It’s just Buck. He’s not doing it to be malicious.”

“If it really upset you, you’d say so,” Sam continued.

“Absolutely. I’ve never told him to quit.”

“Do you want to?” Sam asked, tilting his head. “You don’t have to answer.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I know it’s a question that pops up in all the history books. People like to speculate, make it out to be some sort of thing or another. But he’s always come off a certain way that I never actually thought about it, if that makes any sense.”

“Crass,” Sam supplied. “Joking.”

“You know how the military is,” Steve said, shrugging. “Guys say stupid stuff. It’s not like he ever saw it any other way. I never did.”

“But if he were serious?” Sam asked. “I’m curious. Tell me to fuck off.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve furrowed his brows, thinking about it.

Sam let the question marinate.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, finally. “He’d have to ask me a certain way.”

“Should I offer him suggestions?” Sam said, a tease in his voice. “If he’s serious.”

“Nah,” Steve said decisively, picking up his beer and taking a pull. “Let the man struggle.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I offered to blow him on the pool table,” Bucky announced.

Natasha didn’t look up from her magazine. “I take it that was a no.”

“He thought I was kidding,” Bucky said, heading for the fridge. “He always thinks I’m kidding.”

“Why would you be kidding?” Natasha asked. Her cat made a chirping noise as it climbed back in the window. Bucky was a persistent treat source, so Liho could always be found when he wasn’t sitting.

“I have never in my life made a joke about Steve’s dick,” Bucky said, then paused. “Well, maybe I have. It’s not like I’d remember.”

Natasha snickered quietly.

“Do you want a pop?”

“Tea.”

“Cold?”

“Please.”

He brought her a glass from the pitcher he’d made last night.

“You have sex with me.”

“Routinely.”

“Any complaints?”

“Could stand to do it more,” Natasha moved her magazine so that Bucky could put his head in her lap, whereupon she began to pet his hair and he started to feed Liho tiny pieces of coldcut turkey he’d brought from the fridge as she sat on his belly.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know what I have to say,” Bucky said with a sigh. “Steve. Light of my life. Put your dick in my mouth.”

“Have you tried that?”

“It’s on the list.”

“Please?”

“Should I add a please? Please put your dick in my mouth?”

“’Please sit on my face’ has never not worked.”

“Maybe he’s more discerning than you.”

“I prefer to be direct.”

“Am I being too direct? Do I need to be subtle?”

“How subtle?”

“If I knew, I’d have dick on my breath, wouldn’t I?”

“Ostensibly.”

Bucky groaned. “I don’t know. I don’t know! He’s had sex with people. He has sex with people. I am sure he has had sex with at least two, maybe even three people.”

“None of whom were you.”

“Not to my recollection.”

“Maybe he’s straight.”

“Nobody is that straight.”

“Not everyone is bisexual. Some people are even asexual. Maybe he is.”

“You’re killing my dreams, Natashenka.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Would you like for me to have sex with you?”

“Yes. Not now. But yes.” Bucky sighed again. “Should I ask him on a date?”

“Have you ever been on a date with a man?”

“Never in my life.”

“You haven’t even been on a date with me in a while,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you need to practice?”

“Do we have to?”

“No,” Natasha stroked her fingers through his hair. “We can watch telenovelas and eat ice cream out of the pint and then you can brush your teeth and I’ll sit on your face.”

“I love you. Have I told you today?”

“Twice.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Where would I take Steve on a date?”

“Not an amusement park.”

“No. Crowded. I wish. I can’t.”

“A museum?”

“He would love that. Do people have sex after museums?”

“I have had sex after at least two museums.”

“Not work?”

“Once was work. The other time was for fun.”

“Should I buy him dinner? He eats like a truck.”

“Do you need money?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”

“I love you.”

“You’re easy. I have a better idea.”

“You’re smarter than me.”

“Hush. You take him to an outdoor art show and then a food truck festival. You feed him some of everything until he’s too full to escape and then you talk him into going back to your apartment and you blow him on your couch.”

“I do have a nice couch.”

“You do.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Do you need condoms?”

“He’s germproof.”

“It’s polite to offer.”

“I suppose. Kind of wanted to taste it though.”

“If you do a good enough job the first time, you’ll have another chance.”

“You’re an optimist.”

“You’re very gifted at oral sex.”

“Thank you.”

“And making tea.”

Bucky sighed. “Do you think that’s what I need to do? Ask him on a date?”

“I have no idea,” Natasha said, sipping her tea. “I’ve never had sex with him.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asked.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Natasha said, tilting her head to one side. “Why, do you want to have a threesome?”

“That sounds amazing,” Bucky said. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You’re very handsome,” she said. “And polite, when you try. And your marksmanship is very impressive.”

Bucky laughed softly, closing his eyes. “You’re easy.”

“I’m not,” she said, sipping her tea and scratching lightly at his scalp with her nails. “But we work very well together.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Everyone’s a little queer for Captain America,” Natasha agreed, and Sam snorted.

“I hate all of you,” Steve announced. “Stop encouraging them.”

“It’s not our fault,” Sam said. “It’s the tights.”

“I don’t wear tights,” Steve said. “I wore tailored combat hose.”

“They were tights,” Bucky said. “I had some. They were tights.”

“I am outnumbered,” Steve said wearily. “Flanked on all sides by those I considered allies.”

“It’s a thing, in the military, in college. Everybody these days has a list,” Sam said. “People do it on the internet, too. Who would you switch sides for?”

“You’re on everybody’s list,” Natasha said, straight faced but he could read her glee just fine.

“And the jawline,” Sam said. “Got at least half the world on that jawline alone. What did Tony call ‘em?”

“Those damned azure eyes,” Bucky quoted, and Natasha nodded sagely before exhaling a cloud of vapor.

“Please put that damn thing away,” Sam said scornfully.

“I’m a Millennial now,” Natasha said.

“You are at least seventy,” Sam said. “You look Gen X.”

“I am a hipster,” Natasha drawled. “Besides, we used to smoke cigars.”

“I miss cigars,” Steve said. “Maybe I should try it.”

“Captain America does not vape,” Natasha told him. “Anyway, you wouldn’t like it.”

He held out his hand. She gave it to him. He didn’t like it.

“I told you so,” she said.

“Who’s on your list?” Bucky asked Sam.

“I don’t have a list,” Sam said archly. “I had a list, and then I met the guy. Ruined it.”

“Thanks,” Steve said dryly.

“It was actually Rhodes,” Sam said. “So there.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” Bucky said, delighted.

“You aren’t,” Sam said. “Cap Code.”

“Cap Code,” Bucky was peeling the wet label from his beer bottle. “I never should have instated that rule. Nat, you tell him.”

“Shan’t,” Natasha said. “I’ve just been handed a chip over Sam. I’ll keep it until I need it.”

“A wise woman,” Sam said. “Seriously, I hate that thing. Smells awful.”

“Bring cigars next time,” Natasha said, exhaling in a large, overly-sweet cloud. “You’re on my list, Steve.”

“You’ve already had Bucky,” Steve said. “That’s your Cap allotment.”

“I don’t know why that sounded insulting,” Bucky muttered. “I also don’t know why you don’t blush when you talk about sex with Natasha. Any other woman, you’d be red as a tomato.”

“Natasha is Natasha,” Steve said.

“I am,” she agreed. “It’s very hard to be embarrassed talking about anything with me. It’s my affect.”

“I think it’s your accent,” Steve said, thoughtful.

“I don’t have an accent,” Natasha said.

“That’s what I mean. It makes everything you say sound so professional. Like a doctor.”

“You can’t handle women doctors!” Bucky said, exasperated.

“Untrue,” Steve said. “I’ve had physicals with too many doctors to care.”

“Hmph,” Bucky said, flicking the wet label at Steve. It stuck to his jeans for a moment, and then fell to the floor. Steve sighed longsufferingly and put it into the trash.

“Also, I’d like to remind you,” Steve said, “That I have talked about sex with women. I have actually had sex, at this point, with at least three women that you know about.”

“And that’s the first you’ve actually admitted it,” Bucky said, tipping the bottle at him. “You don’t exactly kiss and tell.”

“I don’t,” Steve agreed. “But neither am I some sort of Galahad figure of male chastity. You know me better than that, Buck.”

Sam muffled a snickering laugh.

“I know you better than anybody, except maybe Sam,” Bucky said, taking a pull from his beer. “And I still don’t know why you don’t believe me when I flirt with you.”

“Or crassly proposition him for inappropriate uses of his pool table,” Sam muttered.

“You told Sam,” Bucky looked at Steve, betrayed.

Steve shrugged. “I tell Sam everything.”

“He told Sam,” Bucky said to Natasha.

“You told me,” she reminded him.

“This is unfair,” Bucky said. “I am at least thirty years old. I demand to be taken seriously.”

“Then don’t involve my pool table in your crass implications,” Steve said. “What are you going to do next, come at me naked with my shield over your crotch?”

“A man’s pool table is sacred, Bucky,” Sam said.

“I would never disrespect the shield that way,” Bucky said, sulky. “I wouldn’t even wear my glove.”

Steve sighed and shook his head.


	5. Chapter 5

“He asked me on a date.”

“Bucky?” Steve could hear the befuddlement of the expression on Sam’s face. He felt the same.

“Bucky.”

“A date.”

“Should I go?”

“You didn’t already say yes?”

“I said yes,” Steve said, “But I wasn’t really sure if I meant yes or if I just wanted to get out of the apartment.”

“Steve,” Sam scolded. “You can’t do that.”

“I suppose not,” Steve said, smiling ruefully. “But it’s Bucky.”

“You’re going on a date with Bucky and you’re still not sure it’s not all a joke,” Sam sighed. “Steve, this is getting stupid.”

“Bucky has been doing this for so long that I don’t know what to think,” Steve reminded him. “Tony does it, too, and he doesn’t mean it either.”

“Steve.”

“You think Tony means it?”

“I think Tony is potentially a stalker and you need to work on your threat assessment levels.”

“That’s harsh, Sam.”

“Rich white men do not take no for an answer,” Sam said sternly. “Anyway, do not bring up Tony on your date with Bucky. They don’t like each other at all, in case you forgot.”

“Bucky doesn’t like most people,” Steve sighed. “He likes Natasha, me, you, and children.”

“ _I’m_ not having sex with him,” Sam said. “He needs a shave.”

Steve laughed. “He looks good like that.”

“So if this is a serious date,” Sam said, considering, “Are you going to fool around after?”

“I’m gonna play it by ear,” Steve decided. “I’ve seen every bad angle he’s got, it’s not like our relationship can possibly get more complicated.”

Sam sighed. “The sad thing is, for you two, sex  _would_ be the least complicated thing about it.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Why are you asking me about this?” Sam sounded more annoyed than anything.

“You’re his other best friend,” Bucky reminded him.

“You already asked him on a date,” Sam said. “Which is what I would have told you to do in the first place.”

“See, you realize I’m serious.”

“I don’t, actually,” Sam said, though his tone was much more relaxed. “I think you’re being a little shit. He worries about you.”

“Don’t say that,” Bucky said. “Do you know how much fucking nerve it took for me to even ask?”

“I  _don’t_ ,” Sam said, more emphatically. “He says you do this all the damn time and he doesn’t think it’s funny. Have you read a history book?”

“Steve never laid a finger on me,” Bucky said. “Anybody who thinks he would have is projecting and needs therapy.”

“You were a twink,” Sam said, huffing, and Bucky winced. “An underaged one at that.”

“He’s four and a half years older than me,” Bucky said. “Christ, it’s not like he was my guardian, he was just my boss.”

“He blames himself for every bad thing that ever happened to you,” Sam said, softer. “You know that, Buck, Jesus Christ.”

Bucky drew in a deep breath, held it. Lowered his voice and looked out the window. “You think this is a bad idea.”

“I think you’re being a shit,” Sam repeated, more gently. “Steve’s Steve.”

“That’s the problem,” Bucky said. He paused again, grimacing, let the silence go for a moment. He could hear Sam washing dishes through the phone. 

“I could call it off. Play it as a joke.”

“It’s not a problem if it’s not a joke,” Sam said. “Is it?”

“It’s really not,” Bucky said.

Sam digested that for a moment. “You know that if you hurt him, I’m going to knock your teeth out.”

“I’ll stand there and let you do it.”

“Nat’s okay with it.”

“Wouldn’t if she wasn’t.”

“Is this you asking for my blessing?”

“Kinda.”

Sam sighed. “Christ on a cracker.”

“Tell me to quit. Tell me he needs me too much and it’s a bad idea.”

“I’m not a hypocrite.”

“What the goddamned motherfucking  _sonovabitching Hell_. That’s not funny.”

Sam’s laugh was smug. “It’s not a joke.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you!”

“Are you gonna hang up on me? I’ll call him if you do.”

“You fucking damn well would, you mean bastard.”

“Steve is Steve.”

“That’s the problem.”

“It always was,” Sam sighed again. “I don’t know, Buck. You can if you want. He’s pretty well adjusted about that sort of thing. Just don’t forget who you are.”

“The biggest mistake of his whole life,” Bucky said, smiling wryly.

“He loves you.”

“Probably too much.”

“As much as he thinks you deserve.”

They were both quiet for a while. Sam finished washing the dishes. Bucky finished his cigarette.

“Does he have sex on a first date?” Bucky asked.

“He’s not a paragon of chastity,” Sam said. “Bring a couple of condoms, just in case.”

“Those VD reels weren’t just whistling.”

“Nope.”

“Is he any good?”

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s probably very good,” Bucky said. “He’s good at everything.”

“Safe bet.”

“Oh well,” Bucky singsonged. “What the Hell.”


	7. Chapter 7

"That is the biggest brownie I have ever seen in my entire life," Bucky said, leaning back on the bench.

"I am a man of simple tastes," Steve said.

"You've eaten everything in the whole damn lot," Bucky said. "And now you're gonna finish that whole thing."

"We can share," Steve said, offering him the fork.

"If I said no," Bucky said, breaking off a piece of the corner, "You could finish it, though, couldn't you?"

"I could eat two," Steve said, smirking.

Bucky put the bite into his mouth, and then his eyes widened and he made an approving sound.

"It's the smell," Steve explained, taking his fork back. "It's just as sensitive as everything else. Makes picking food trucks very easy."

"That's fucking amazing," Bucky said, his mouth still full. "Shit, it's still  _warm_."

Steve hummed his approval as he put his own bite into his mouth, and they went back and forth, taking samples of chocolate ice cream, fudge, whipped cream, and almond slivers.

"Christing fuck," Bucky sighed over the last bite. "I can't eat anything else. I'm done."

"I kind of wanted to try the waffle truck," Steve said. "I saw it on the news."

Bucky groaned a laugh. " _How_?"

"You know how."

"I've seen you eat twelve C-rations and look dissatisfied," Bucky agreed. "I used to think it was the fact they were rations."

"And then you learned the terrible truth." Steve licked fudge from his thumb. "I need six thousand calories a day to be even moderately happy, and I'm from Brooklyn."

"Trucks are your preferred food source," Bucky said, grinning.

"Trucks and hot dog carts," Steve said.

"Tell you what," Bucky said. "Come back to my apartment and I'll make you a sandwich. Grilled cheese, Havaarti and Swiss with pepper and garlic. Actual butter. Artisan bread. I own a sandwich press."

"See, this new tactic of yours is actually working," Steve said. "Food is my weakness."

"Man's heart through his stomach," Bucky said, taking the paper brownie dish to head for the trash bins. "Goddamn, you're easy."

"Always was," Steve said, getting up and stretching to follow after him. "You know me well enough to have figured it out faster."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky’s apartment didn’t have much in it, but there was enough in a small space to be cluttered. There was a television, a stereo, a leather sofa, a cheap coffee table, a gun rack, a weight set, and a carefully curated cabinet for maintenance of his arm between the sofa and the wall. The rug on the floor was deep blue and meticulously vacuumed.

It was small, but in a cozy way. New York rent wasn’t cheap.

“You want to sit or you want to hover?” Bucky asked as he locked the door behind them. There were two deadbolts, a chain, and a security knob. Bucky had installed them all himself.

“I’ll hover,” Steve said, smiling.

Bucky turned the stereo on with a remote. It was jazz, old jazz. Their time. Steve’s smile got a little softer, smaller. Bucky took off his hoodie and hung it over the back of the couch, so Steve did the same with his jacket. Shoes went under the coffee table. Bucky went on to the small kitchen, so Steve followed and leaned against the doorway, watching him prepare to make the sandwich.

“Didn’t know you still listened to the old stuff.”

“Only sometimes,” Bucky said. “Seemed appropriate. Coke in the fridge.”

Steve brushed by him to get it. His chest hit Bucky’s back. Bucky grinned.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve said. It had the bonus effect of being low and rumbling and right by Bucky’s ear, which only made him grin harder. His lack of comment seemed to satisfy Steve, who got back to the doorway with his drink and then took a double take.

“Mexican Coke?”

“Cane sugar,” Bucky said.

“Wonders never cease,” Steve marveled, fishing the bottle opener out of the drawer and popping off the cap. “Is this all out?”

“Bodega on the corner,” Bucky said, feigning nonchalance but then giving it up in favor of sincerity. “But yeah.”

“Art show, as much of as many foods as I could eat, jazz, Mexican Coke, and a hot sandwich,” Steve recounted. “This is much better than one liners and jokes in poor taste.”

“Believe me yet?” Bucky asked as the butter hissed on the sandwich press.

“I’m getting there.” Steve took a swig from the bottle and made a soft, pleased sound.

Bucky closed the sandwich press, tried to hide a slow, deep breath, and then crowded Steve against the doorframe, only to find himself foiled.

“Five  _goddamn_ inches,” he complained. “Why are you so  _stupidly tall_?”

Steve chuckled.

“Get down here,” Bucky said, gruff and sulky.

The kiss was sweet, like brownie and Coke and chocolate ice cream. Steve held his breath and Bucky kept his eyes half open.

“How about now?”

“Maybe one more,” Steve said, and the cheek of it made Bucky grin.

The second one was slower, rougher, and only stopped because the sandwich press beeped.

“That smells good,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s mouth.

“You smell good,” Bucky muttered, feigning annoyance.

“I was promised a sandwich.”

“Fine,” Bucky said. “But I’m gonna need about as many of those as I can get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comics, Steve is 6′2″ (188cm) to Bucky’s 5′9″ (175).
> 
> I was informed by my datemate that being 5 inches taller than a person who wants to kiss you is very rude.


	9. Chapter 9

“You taste like garlic.”

“You put garlic in the sandwich.”

“Why am I talking?”

“You’re nervous.”

“Fuck you.”

“You chatter when you’re nervous, Buck.”

“I want to climb you like a goddamn tree.”

“You’re not that short anymore.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.” Steve paused, looking at Bucky’s face through his eyelashes, his voice coming out low and warm. “I want to take your shirt off.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not about to be fucking shy when I’m two inches from-” He was very offended by the soft, melting sound he made when Steve kissed him again. He made up for it by shooting his hand out to firmly squeeze Steve’s dick through his jeans, which made Steve suck in air so sharply he broke off the kiss.

“You’re a brat,” Steve protested, his voice husky and affectionate.

“I’m at least as hard as you are,” Bucky said, rocking up on his knees to try and pin Steve to the back of the couch. “Quit fucking around.”

“Fooling around on couches loses its appeal when your shoulders are wider than the cushions,” Steve said, smirking. “Why don’t we go to your bedroom?”

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky complained breathily, “I was gonna tell you.”

“No you weren’t,” Steve said. “You wanted to do it out here. Is your room a mess?”

“No,” Bucky said. “I just cleaned it.”

“Lucky me,” Steve said. “Get off or I’ll carry you.”

“I will smack you left handed,” Bucky said, scowling and scooting back.

“I can take a smack,” Steve said, grinning. “I thought you were gonna offer to punch me in the head.”

“If I knock you out, I have to drag your carcass into my bed and wait for you to come around,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand and dragging him off the couch. “C’mon, Captain Asshole.”

Bucky peeled his shirt off over his head on the way to the bedroom and turned around when he hit the bed to see Steve doing the same. He'd seen Steve shirtless enough times to know exactly where he wanted to look and where he wanted to put his hands, and by the time Steve was sitting on the bed, Bucky was already pawing at his abdomen.

"Easy, Buck," Steve murmured soothingly against his mouth.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and kissed him harder.

Steve's arms went around him slowly and his big hands spread out across Bucky's lower back.

After a few minutes, Steve’s hands were everywhere. He kissed like he ate, ravenous and methodical at the same time. Bucky felt hot and dizzy.

“How,” he panted. “Did I end up in your lap?”

“It was that,” Steve answered, “or pin you to your own damned bed.”

Bucky smiled crookedly at that and Steve nuzzled into the side of his neck and gently scraped it with his teeth.

“Quit grinning,” Steve complained, muffled by skin.

“I feel like, mm, I won something.”

“There’s a lot less difference,” Steve said, leaning back and pulling Bucky down on top of him. “Between thirty-five and thirty than twenty-one and sixteen.”

“It’s legal now,” Bucky said, watching his hands press into Steve’s chest and grinning smugly at the give. “You’re not soliciting a youth into breaking the law. Corrupting my innocence with unAmerican activities and sodomy.”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, squeezing his thighs. “Shut up.”

“You never thought about it,” Bucky said, leaning down, kissing the middle of Steve’s bare chest, dropping his right hand to pop open the button of Steve’s jeans. “You never thought about it once, did you? Not even when you beat my ass that one time.”

“Not once,” Steve said. “Not even a little bit.”

“I jerked off to that for years,” Bucky said. “But I wasn’t the CO.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Steve said, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“You’re so responsible,” Bucky crooned, half-teasing, leaning up to brush his lips against Steve’s mouth. “Pillar of the community. Paragon of virtue. Role model." He dropped his voice as low as it would go and grinned. "C'mon, Cap. Take your pants off.”

“Sam’s right,” Steve sighed again, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You’re not a brat anymore. You’re just a mean little shit.”

"Less sass," Bucky said, tugging at Steve's zipper. "More naked."

Steve didn't feign his cooperation, he actually did shimmy out of his jeans and took his underwear with them.

"Jesus Christ," Bucky said, blinking. "You're _proportionate_."

"Do you ever," Steve said, blushing at last and jerking the button open on Bucky's fly, "stop _talking_?"

Bucky laughed as he kissed him again. "Not with you."

Steve grunted and helped Bucky down to his skin. It felt good, warm and fuzzy and just enough give to make the press of muscle against muscle interesting. Steve got back to kissing Bucky's neck as soon as their jeans had been kicked to the floor and Bucky arched into it, grinding his dick into Steve's thigh.

"You got any rubbers?" Steve asked, his breath hot on Bucky's ear.

"Sure do," Bucky exhaled, mentally thanking Natasha and Sam.

"Get one," Steve said, starting to kiss down Bucky's chest.

Bucky swallowed thickly. "Huh."

Steve snapped his fingers twice, his mouth three inches over Bucky's navel. " _Today_ , Barnes."

"I was gonna-" he began, leaning over to get them out of the bedside table.

"Shut it," Steve advised. Then he looked up at Bucky and winked.

Bucky swallowed again, dropping the wrapped condom on the bed in one of the most hilariously inopportune fumbles of his life. Steve snatched it up and tore the wrapper.

"What the Hell?" Bucky said wonderingly.

"I didn't think about it then," Steve said, taking it out and pinching the air out of the reservoir. "You didn't ask about now."

Bucky had been part of what he considered to be a decent amount of sex with a relatively normal number of people. He hadn't previously experienced someone putting a condom on his dick with their mouth. Definitely not all the way to the base in one go to the point where his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell off his elbows on to the pillow with the wind knocked out of him.

"You look," Steve said, after retracting his mouth with a soft pop. " _Damned_ good in that uniform."

Bucky lifted his head to give him a dizzy stare.

Steve shrugged, smirking wickedly. "I told you, Buck. You're my Captain America."

Bucky pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and laughed. "Christ almighty. Me and Sam.  _We're_ your list."

"You know me pretty well," Steve said, getting back to work.

One hand was squeezing gently at Bucky's thigh, the other wrapped around the base of his dick as Steve's tongue never stopped moving and he evidently didn't need to come up for air. Bucky didn't know how long he'd last, but he relaxed into it anyway, grinning, his head tilting back in the pillows and his hand drifting into Steve's close cropped hair.

It wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, but it wasn't long. Especially not when he managed to actually get a look at Steve's gorgeous mouth and the way his cheeks hollowed out over his perfect jaw, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. All that precision and focus in one place couldn't help but be very effective. Steve held his hips down and kept going until Bucky's thighs were shaking and he couldn't catch his breath, then slowly pulled back and gave him room to sit up.

"Put it in the trash," Steve said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Then come on back."

Bucky wobbled a little when he stood up, which made him laugh at himself. When he crashed back into the bed, Steve was up on the pillows, lying on his side, looking comfortable and pleased with himself.

"You're amazing."

"Shucks," Steve said. "Gosh and golly, Bucky, I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Bucky groaned and rolled forward to press his forehead into Steve's chest. "It isn't any cuter when you do it."

"Don't ever call me a role model when we're in bed," Steve warned. "And if you call me Cap, I'll bop you with a pillow."

"So we're gonna do this again?" Bucky asked, looking up at him.

"We haven't even finished the first time," Steve said. "I'm not done with you."

Bucky licked his lips. "Hyper metabolism?"

"I can go about five times before I start to get tired," Steve said, low and smug.

"Let me catch my breath and I'll see what I can do."


End file.
